


ebb and flow

by sinspiration



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (no actual drowning occurs), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, It's a beach!, M/M, Mentions of Drowning, Shiro be a smarter swimmer pls, know your limits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinspiration/pseuds/sinspiration
Summary: “I’m Shiro," Shiro says with what he hopes is a friendly smile. “I haven’t seen you here before.”“Keith.” the man says, still looking at Shiro’s feet. Or where they would be, under the waves. “I’m… new.”That would explain it. “It’s a great stretch of beach,” Shiro offers. “Though the waters can be rough. But if you’re a good swimmer, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble.”Keith flinches. “I can’t swim.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 294





	ebb and flow

**Author's Note:**

> For Ribbit, for the W&G sheithcret santa exchange! I hope you like what I did with your prompt.

Shiro got into swimming as part of his physical therapy. It helped him become stronger and more coordinated again and gave him a peace of mind, when he was in the water. With his new arm, he had to relearn swimming all over again, but he got better faster.

Water was calming. It gave him back a lot.

Being transferred to the East Coast for work was a different sort of upheaval, but it also got him to the  _ East Coast. _

If he couldn’t be in the air, at least he could spend time in the sea.

And swimming unhindered in the ocean was a  _ joy. _ It took getting used to, the smell of salt and brine instead of chlorine, the waves and tide working with or against him, the sheer magnitude of the body of water.

It was exhilarating and breath-taking, and soon enough, Shiro was going to the beach every morning just at dawn, sometimes going back at dusk. It was nice to have a concrete thing to love. When he wasn’t working, he was able to be here, in the sand, in the waves. 

***

It’s an ordinary Tuesday morning when Shiro arrives at his usual stretch of beach, in a relatively secluded cove. His usual time is early because he comes before work, and this particular cove because it’s a little more out of the way to get to, and rockier. The tide tends to be stronger too, and Shiro spent a lot of time being very careful before he allowed himself to let loose.

He puts on his goggles, then plunges in all at once and gets started, happily letting his thoughts float as the rest of his body works hard, works the way he wants it to. Arms pumping, core engaged, legs kicking-- he breathes and swims and breathes and swims. When he pauses for rest and to check the time on his fitness tracker, he catches sight of someone else in the cove. That’s unusual. He’s been coming here for months, and hasn’t seen anyway else at this time.

He swims a little closer. Through the tint of his goggles he can see that the man standing on the shore is in a loose tank top and shorts, looking out at the water, just not in Shiro’s direction.

As Shiro treads water, he decides to go say hello. If nothing else, he should warn the stranger of the rougher current, in the event that he wants to swim.

He pushes up his goggles as he gets closer, pitching his voice to be heard over the waves. “Good morning!” 

The stranger’s head jerks around and he stumbles back a step, hands closing into fists and coming up in guard. They’re… good reflexes. Slightly worrying reflexes. 

Shiro isn’t even on land yet. “Sorry if I startled you,” he says, and stays where he’s still ankle-deep in the water

The man drops his hands, which is something. He looks at Shiro, then quickly looks away. “It’s fine. G’morning.” His voice is pleasantly rough.

Up close, and without lenses and water droplets in the way, the man is gorgeous, from his pretty, angular face and black hair in a knot at the back of his head to the lean, muscled lines of his body.

“I’m Shiro," Shiro says with what he hopes is a friendly smile. “I haven’t seen you here before.” 

“Keith,” the man says, still looking at Shiro’s feet. Or where they would be, under the waves. “I’m… new.”

That would explain it. “It’s a great stretch of beach,” Shiro offers. “Though the waters can be rough. But if you’re a good swimmer, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble.”

Keith flinches. “I can’t swim.” 

“Oh.” Shiro falters. He tries to re-calibrate. “Well, wading’s nice too!”

Keith makes a noncommittal noise, and then his eyes widen all at once. He takes a couple hurried steps back. “Sorry, I wasn’t--trying to get in your way.”

Shiro chuckles. “It’s okay. I didn’t think you were.” He walks fully onto the beach and grabs his towel from where it’s sitting on a very convenient rock. He’s had a lot of good times with that rock. As he gives himself a cursory towel-down, he says, “I didn’t mean to interrupt what you were doing, either.”

“You weren’t,” Keith says. His gaze is back on the sand. “I just thought it might be a nice place to think.”

A secluded place and a secluded time, but for Shiro being there too. “It is. I think so.”

Keith’s eyes flick up and, for the first time, Shiro gets to really see them. Keith’s eyes are beautiful and startling. His slight smile even more so. “I’ll take your word for it. You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Shiro coughs a laugh. “I appreciate you’ve gotten that idea.” He glances at his watch. It’s a little earlier than he typically heads out, but he wants to give Keith some space. “I’ve got to get going. I hope you have a nice day. And get that time to think.”

“Thanks,” Keith says. “You too.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Shiro calls over his shoulder, when he remembers to, halfway back up the beach.

He can just make out Keith’s lips quirking up again, just a little, as he gives Shiro a wave.

***

Keith is back the next day too, and the next, and the next. He arrives after Shiro is already in the water, so Shiro doesn’t really get a sense of when he shows up. Sometimes Shiro pauses his swim to tread water and take him in. Keith always just stands out there, watching the waves. Lost in thought, maybe, and though Shiro is usually relatively far out, he thinks Keith looks melancholy.

But Keith also always stays until Shiro is done. The second time they’d met like that, on Wednesday morning, Keith had seemed startled again. Shiro went on to explain that swimming here was an every-day routine for him.

“Oh,” Keith had said quietly. “Wow, you must really like to swim.”

“It’s something I really enjoy, yeah.”

Keith had nodded and turned his head back to the sea, expression wistful.

But he’d stayed the rest of the week too. Once in a while Shiro feels as though eyes are on him, and he wonders a little at that.  _ I can’t swim, _ and how… sad it had sounded.

When Shiro’s done, Keith is there, and they chat some, before Shiro has to go. Leaving Keith looking out over the waves as the light of day makes him glow. 

***

Several months later and Shiro doesn’t know how he’d started his days without Keith in the morning. Talking to him is a little bright spot, and getting to see Keith open up more has been a delight.

Shiro gets to the beach even earlier now, so that when he finishes his swim, he still has more time to spend with Keith. Not too early that he’s done before Keith arrives, though. He knows that Keith likes to watch him swim.

It’s crossed his mind a few times to offer, but he bites it down each time. Something in him can tell, somehow, that he shouldn’t. 

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Keith asks, his hands clasped over one knee. He and Shiro are sitting side-by-side on one of the larger rocks in the cove, Shiro with his towel wrapped around him. “Still fighting with Slav?”

Shiro makes a face. “Honestly, I know he’s brilliant and everything, but if we could just stop focusing on variables for two seconds, we might actually make headway in what we’re supposed to be building.”

Keith huffs a laugh. “But Shiro, what if, when you use the quad-core processor and the circuits overheat--”

“Ugh stop,” Shiro moans. “I hear enough about that from him.”

Keith grins now. “But you’re  _ lucky. _ He  _ likes _ you.”

“If I were luckier, he wouldn’t like me,” Shiro grumbles. But he can’t help his next smile, because it’s so comfortable to just sit with Keith and tease.

It’s not the first time Shiro’s wanted to reach out and touch him. Brush his messy, windswept bangs aside, or slide an arm around his waist.

Instead he bumps Keith’s shoulder with his own and lets the conversation continue. It’s always so easy, with Keith.

Eventually he looks at his watch and sighs. “Gotta go face the music.”

Keith nods. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Shiro smiles at him. “Yeah, same time, same place.”

He gets a smile in return.

***

“Still looking?” Shiro asks one Friday morning, as he does sometimes. Keith’s revealed that he’s searching for a family heirloom. He’s tracked it to the area, but so far hasn’t had much further luck.

_ “I lost it when my father died.”  _ And Shiro had watched him, as Keith gazed out onto the sea.  _ “It was mine, but they took it from me. So I’ve been looking for it ever since.” _

Keith is so strong. Shiro already knew that, but seeing that fierce determination, how hard Keith has worked to get where he is and to find what he’s lost… Shiro falls a little harder.

“I think I’m close,” Keith tells him. Shiro straightens up to pay attention. It’s the first time in a while Keith has said so.

“You think?” Shiro asks, eager.

Keith pauses, then nods. “I think so. I think… I think it might be mine again, soon.”

And he looks so vulnerable then, hope tangled up with the fear of failure, that Shiro can’t help it. He still projects when he reaches for him, but Keith folds into the hug easily, clutching Shiro back.

“I hope so,” Shiro breathes. “I hope it’s yours soon.”

Keith shudders out a sigh. “Thank you.”

***

On weekends Shiro sleeps in, so he gets to the beach a little later. It’s the only time Keith beats him to the cove, though now that they talk every day, Keith knows when to expect him.

That Saturday, Keith isn’t there when Shiro arrives. He tries not to worry, but it’s hard when Keith being at the beach has been such a part of his routine. He finishes his swim and Keith still isn’t there. The worry grows, and grows more when, after another hour of waiting, there’s no Keith.

He knows that yesterday, Keith was following a lead. And not seeing Keith here today…

He doesn’t even know what the thing  _ is. _ Keith had always been vague, even though he’s told Shiro so much since they’d first met. But some information has been missing.

Shiro eats the food he brought with him for breakfast, and there’s too much of it because he and Keith share. When he eventually has to go, he curses himself for never having gotten Keith’s number. It just hadn’t come up, their time being  _ theirs, _ and now he’s furious at how stupid that was. Shiro wasn’t going to have Keith forever. Things came up.

So tomorrow, he decides. Because Keith would show up tomorrow. And Shiro would ask and… maybe ask a few more things.

***

Shiro shows up at the cove early Sunday morning. Keith isn’t there.

But it’s early, he tells himself. Earlier then Shiro usually comes, on weekends.

He sets the little breakfast basket he’d packed down on the sand and puts his folded-up towel on his usual rock. The waters are a little choppier today, but he’s got confidence in himself. And Keith isn’t there yet.

Shiro just needs to swim.

Once he’s in the water, things float the way they always do. He can’t worry, because he has to swim. That’s all he can do right now. Swim.

_ Push, pull, push, pull-- _

He swims for a long time and, when he surfaces for air, he realizes that he’s farther away from the shore than he’d thought. Even treading water is tiring, so it’s probably time to head back.

The current isn’t kind to him. Shiro is strong and powerful, but he’s spent a lot of energy already and it… it starts to feel like a losing battle. He swims and swims to keep himself above water, to try to head for the sand, but he’s tired. Each kick hurts, each pull is fire in his shoulders. He’s not sure if he’s moving forward or backward, can’t tell how close the shore is anymore...

He wishes he’d gotten the chance to see Keith again.

He hopes Keith won’t worry.

He…

***

“--ro! Shiro, please. Please, please, be okay. Please, you have to wake up, Shiro please--”

Keith’s voice sounds raw and wrecked, thick with tears. Shiro does not like it at all. 

_ I’m okay. I’m right here. It’s okay. _

It’s dark. 

His eyes are closed?

With a groan, he opens his eyes, squinting at the bright sun, though most of it is blocked out by Keith’s face. It’s creased with worry and streaked with tears. His hair is wet, loose strands sticking to his face. “Keith?”

“Shiro,” Keith whispers.

Shiro coughs and sits up. It’s hard, he feels wiped, and Keith ends up helping to support him, his hand warm against Shiro’s back. “What…” he remembers the waters, rough and then rougher, remembers the fatigue, and then...

“Your towel was on the rock and your basket was here but I couldn’t find out and then I saw… I saw you in the sea,” Keith says. He’s speaking quickly, as though he’s worried Shiro will be gone again before he finishes talking. “I got you out of the water and you coughed and coughed and kept breathing, but then you wouldn’t wake up--”

“I’m okay,” Shiro tries to assure him. He feels bone-tired, wrung out, could probably do with some food and some sleep, but he’s okay. “I’m okay, Keith. You saved me.”

Keith lets out a broken sound and flings his arms around Shiro, burying his face in Shiro neck, shaking. “I thought I’d lost you. I just found you and I thought I’d lost you.”

Shiro brings his arms up to hold Keith back. He’s starting to feel shaky, probably some sort of shock setting in. Keith is warm and alive, and such a comfort right now. “You didn’t. You didn‘t lose me. I’m right here.”

When Keith pulls back, Shiro misses him, but Keith doesn’t go far. Just enough to run his hands over Shiro’s face, his arms, checking in. Shiro lets him, revels in feeling Keith’s hands over his skin. But now he’s paying attention too, and he brings up his own hand to barely-brush Keith’s cheek, where there is a large, angry-looking gash. “Oh, Keith.”

Keith shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine.  _ You _ almost--”

“But I didn’t.” Shiro swallows. “We should get cleaned up.”  _ You should get that taken care of.  _ “I don’t live far. Come with me?”

Keith looks at him, eyes wide, and nods. He helps Shiro stand up, then crouches to grab up what Shiro was lying on. It isn’t Shiro’s towel, like Shiro had originally though. Instead, it’s a soft-looking brown fabric. Keith swings it around his body, and it settles over him like a cape. 

Keith gathers up Shiro’s actual towel and the breakfast basket, and they head to Shiro’s car.

“I’ll drive,” Keith says with finality. Shiro hands him the keys without hesitation, then directs Keith where to go.

When they’re finally inside Shiro’s home, he goes to get his first aid kit, but Keith insists he can tend to his cheek himself. Instead he directs Shiro to eat as he cleans and slaps a bandage over his cheek, then checks Shiro over for any injuries. Shiro’s fine aside from a few abrasions, his swim shirt having helped him avoid others, but Keith cleans and covers those with care--far more care than he’d given himself.

He hasn’t taken his capelet off since he first put it on, and it’s interesting watching him move around Shiro’s kitchen looking like a little lord. One who sees Shiro drifting and lets out a sigh.

“You need to rest. Where’s your bedroom?”

Shiro points in the general direction, gratified to see Keith smile, just a little.

“Alright, fine. Let’s go.”

Shiro still has salt on his skin, but he doesn’t protest being led to bed. Sliding under the covers is exactly what his body wanted, apparently. He reaches for Keith as Keith moves away, missing his hand and grabbing the edge of the capelet. “Don’t go. Please.”

Keith’s expression blanks, and he tugs at the fabric of his cape. Shiro relinquishes his hold at once. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to.”

There is a moment of silence, then Keith’s eyes soften. “Don’t be sorry. I’ll stay.”

Shiro smiles at him before his eyes drift shut.

***

Shiro dreams of something powerful darting through the water and catching hold of him by the back of his swim shirt, and carrying him to shore. It’s sleek and brown, and when he opens his eyes he sees that flash of brown again--but it’s only Keith. He’s curled up at the foot of Shiro bed, the brown cape tucked around him like a blanket. 

Now that Shiro is looking at it closer, it looks more like a fine pelt of some kind. Incredibly fine. 

He  _ remembers  _ a creature. He doesn’t remember Keith.

_ I can’t swim. _

How had Keith gotten to him?

Shiro had crawled under his covers still wearing his swimming gear, too tried to shed them. They were dry anyway, even if he’s going to find sand in his sheets. Now he pulls his swim shirt up over his head, and stares at the rips in the back of the shirt, where the durable fabric is shredded and pilled from being held by…

What?

Sharp teeth?

He looks back at Keith. At the strong, brilliant, beautiful man that Shiro knows he’s been falling for.

_ I can’t swim. _

And how sad, so sad Keith had sounded, when he’d said so.

Keith stirs, eyes widening all at once as he sits up. The cape falls off his shoulders and he immediately gathers it up in his lap. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I wasn’t--”

“It’s okay,” Shiro assures him. “Keith, it’s okay.” In any other circumstance he would have loved to have Keith in his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“How am I--?” Keith looks comically outraged. “I’m fine! How are  _ you?” _

“I’m alright.” At Keith’s look of disbelief, Shiro says, “No, really. I was tired. But after the nap, I feel a lot better. And you made me eat, too, which I think helped.” He wants to reach out so badly. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

Keith flushes and looks away, getting off the bed. He holds his cape tightly in his hands.

“But Keith…” he doesn’t know how to end the sentence. How to ask the question. How to ask any of his questions.

“You want to know how I saved you,” Keith says quietly.

Shiro nods.

He watches Keith swallow and close his eyes. Take a breath. Then clearly make a decision.

“I’ll tell you this evening,” Keith says. As he speaks, he takes his cape and lays it out over Shiro’s bed like a blanket, adjusting and fussing with the pelt until it lies the way he wants it to. Shiro wonders if Keith realizes his hands are shaking. “You rest, and eat, and rest more, and I’ll meet you at the cove. At sunset.” 

“Sunset,” Shiro says.

“You... you have to bring this back to me,” Keith says, petting the pelt before he pulls away.

“I will,” Shiro promises. “I’ll return it when I see you tonight.”

Keith gives him a sliver of a smile, though it’s peaked with worry. Then he quickly hurries out of the room. Shiro hears a door open and shut again soon after. Keith leaving.

He reaches out to touch the brown cape. It’s the softest, smoothest thing he’s ever felt.

***

When Shiro arrives at the cove at sunset, Keith is already waiting for him, perched on their rock. He tilts his head in acknowledgement when Shiro arrives, but his gaze is fixed out on the sea.

Shiro takes his seat next to him. He, too, looks toward the sea.

They sit like that for a while, with just the sound of the waves on the shore.

“This is what you were looking for, isn’t it,” Shiro says of the little brown bundle he’d brought with him. “What you lost. What they took from you.”

Keith nods. “Yeah.”

“What happens if I don’t give it back?”

“I stay here. With you, if you want.” Keith shifts, biting his lip. “I don’t think I’d mind. If it were with you.”

The waves crash, foam fizzling on the sand.

“But you wouldn’t be able to swim,” Shiro says.

Keith exhales long and slow, eyes on the water. “No.”

Shiro wants Keith in all manner of ways. But the thought of taking Keith’s freedom makes him sick. He turns to face Keith and holds out the pelt. “I promised I’d give it back.”

Keith’s hand darts out as if to snatch the pelt up, but stops just shy of touching it. He looks up at Shiro now, expression uncertain. “You could keep me.”

Shiro offers the pelt again. “I want you to swim.”

Keith looks down at the pelt, longing clear on his face, then back up at Shiro. His expression doesn’t change. “You want me to leave?”

“I want you to stay,” Shiro admits. He catches Keith’s hand and pushes the brown cape into it until Keith’s fingers curl around the fabric. “But this isn’t mine. It’s yours. And I… I want you to stay so much. But only on your terms.”

“Shiro,” Keith breathes, as he clutches his pelt. 

“There,” Shiro murmurs to himself. How it should be. Something in him unwinds.

Keith throws his arms around Shiro’s neck and Shiro melts into him, tension easing into joyful, relieved euphoria.

Their first kisses taste like salt.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me about sheith on [Twitter?](https://twitter.com/justsayins)


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